


Please Please Me

by sexylibrarian1



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental hurting, Blow Jobs, Gen, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, Other, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking, Under-negotiated sort of consensual but not really sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:55:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9386159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexylibrarian1/pseuds/sexylibrarian1
Summary: *In 1984, Alexander Pierce became the director of HYDRA. Well aware that he had been waiting an ungodly amount of time for the honor, he was determined to make his mark on the organization that had fostered him from his birth. Anything done by him, or in his name, ends exactly where it started. However, he is not the only one now under increased scrutiny, both from his subordinates and his peers--he has a daughter named Clara, and in 1985, at the age of twenty-six, she is not what her father would call the ideal daughter. She would much rather read a book or draw a landscape than participate in the lessons of HYDRA that her father offers, and to everyone’s horror, seems to be completely uninterested in marrying well and doing all that it will entail. Determined to remedy this, her father publicly announces her engagement and sets her to learn a few overdue lessons, both with a willing teacher… and a ready prop.If you like what you read, come follow me on Tumblr. My name on there is also "sexylibrarian1" and the name of my blog is Trash and Tragedy.





	1. Part 1

The pure decadence of this party was revolting. Silver utensils clinked on gold-encrusted porcelain plates and bowls, and each wine glass—including the one Clara was now delicately sipping from—sparkled and winked in the light, some displaying bits of emerald, others flakes of sapphire or ruby. Each man present preened in a tuxedo worth thousands of dollars, and each woman displayed herself in a dress worth twice that. Clara herself was decked out in a dark red dress that shimmered gold if in the right light, with swathes of silk and lace caressing her shoulders and draping sensually down her back. She wore a gold bracelet on each arm, gold high-heeled shoes, and gold clips in her hair that swept it up into an elegant bun. She hated all of it.  
This party was all for her, unfortunately. Her father had barely spoken one sentence to her in the past two weeks, and then suddenly, he had sat her down and told her in a tone that brooked no interruption or protest that he was essentially selling her off to his best agent, a man by the name of Michael Rumlow. He was aged fifty-two, with a twenty year old son, and a widower who apparently hadn’t decided that his partying days were over.   
As a result, no expense had been spared, everyone was eating off of dishes and dressed in clothing that would generate enough money to feed the entirety of the United States for at least five years, and Clara was completely unimpressed by all of it. Her father, Alexander Pierce, was sitting next to her, deep in conversation with Agent 10 and some fat idiot who had… orange hair. Orange. Judging by the way her father’s shoulders were continually hunching forward, he was getting more bored by the second. He caught Clara watching him and abruptly stood up, tapping his knife against the side of his wineglass. “Everyone? Everyone, your attention, please!”  
The room stilled immediately, and Pierce gestured for her to stand up. “My daughter Clara has come of age surrounded by all of you,” he began, gesturing expansively to his audience, and Clara barely held back her snort, “and I wanted you all to be the first to know that Clara, my only family and heir to all of my work, is now engaged to Michael Rumlow!”  
Everyone present broke into what Clara knew was overenthusiastic applause; she was not well-liked or respected here, and she was fully aware of it. If her father had not done such an outstanding job reorganizing HYDRA after the death of Zola in the seventies and expanding the Winter Soldier project after he was awarded the position of director, he would have been long gone by now, and all on her account. Everything she did undermined his position, from her hobbies to her blatant disinterest in taking a more active role in HYDRA. She was not militarily minded, she was not skilled in combat or weaponry, and she refused to deal with the more technical side of the organization, avoiding any computer at all costs.   
She pasted a smile on her face and raised her glass to complete her father’s toast. A marriage was all that was left to her, and the threatening glint in his eye was all she needed to let her know that she had no option but to go through with it.

News of her engagement had swept throughout the entire branch within two hours, and by morning, Clara was pretty sure that all of HYDRA knew. She had overheard two female agents, both of them low rungs on the ladder and too new and stupid to care about who or what might be listening, whispering about it as she’d headed down to breakfast with her father.  
“That prude is engaged… at least she’s stuck with the father and she didn’t take the son!”  
“I’d pay money to get my hands on him…”  
“She’s going to screw this up too… I heard Jack and a couple of the others taking bets on how long it would take her to defect yesterday.”  
“Isn’t Jack friends with Agent Rumlow’s son?”  
“Yup. It’s not like he was doing it in front of him.”  
“Good point. So what were the bets?”  
“Jack bet a week’s worth of his recreation time with the Asset that she’d run a week after they got married.”  
“Shit!”  
Clara was still chewing her lip as she walked into the private dining room, not from embarrassment… but because she knew that they were right.  
“Hello, Miss Pierce.”  
She looked up, blinking. Agent 10, dressed in a loose shirt and jeans, her black hair tied back into a scruffy ponytail, was smiling at her from the other side of the table. Alexander Pierce was conspicuously absent.  
“Your father has something to discuss with you, but he decided that I was better suited to the task,” Agent 10 explained, smirking a little. Clara’s face was an easy read. “He tells me that you are a virgin.”  
No wonder.  
“He also says that you have little to no experience pleasuring men,” she continued, acting as if the personal information she had offered up meant nothing to either party. “He wishes your marriage to be successful and for you to complete, and enjoy, your duties as a wife. Therefore, he requests that you begin learning… how to have sex. Immediately after breakfast.”  
Clara, still stunned, couldn’t bring herself to speak, but did manage to raise an eyebrow.  
Agent 10 let out an annoying little giggle. “Not with me,” she responded, a smirk widening her mouth until it was almost a clown’s grin. “Oh no. He would rather you go with a… prime example of a male specimen.” She pulled out Clara’s chair for her as if they were at a candlelit restaurant with white tablecloths. “Let’s eat breakfast--” She grabbed at Clara’s hands and eyed her embarrassingly long and overdone nails. “And then you need a manicure.”


	2. Part 2

Clara eyed her brutally short and now unpainted nails with one eyebrow critically raised. “Don’t men like women who dress up and look pretty for them? I mean… I look like I’m about to go onto a construction site.”  
Agent 10 snorted. “Anything but. Trust me, honey, a man won’t like it if you do what I’m about to teach you to do with those ridiculous nails. And you want to wear comfortable clothing; we might be down there a while.” She offered her what Clara was pretty sure was supposed to be an encouraging smile.   
“So… what exactly are we going to do?”  
“I’m going to teach you everything you need to do to please a man—how to kiss him, where to touch him, how to touch him, and all of the details that will help you give him his best experience.”  
“And my father is perfectly okay with me… learning how to do this with another HYDRA agent who I’m not engaged to?”  
“We’re not going to another HYDRA agent for this; your father would have me in pieces on a platter.”  
“But you said I wasn’t learning with you. Who do I learn with?”  
Agent 10 smirked and went to open a heavy vault door, accessing it with what Clara thought was an unnecessarily long key code. Two cameras just above their heads whirred to face them, the red lights blinking on. Locks clicked and something beeped, and Agent 10 pushed open the door.  
Clara’s jaw dropped.   
Sitting hunched over on a metal table, hands resting gracefully on his thighs, with his thick, glossy dark hair hanging in his face, and brutally naked, was the Asset. When they entered the room, his head snapped up and he took in first Agent 10, and then Clara, giving her a look that made her want to run from the room and fall to the floor in front of him all at once. Clara glanced at Agent 10, working to keep the blatant horror off her features and failing. “Him?”  
“Yes, him,” she answered matter-of-factly. “He’s been informed of the mechanics of the situation, and told explicitly what will happen to him if he displeases your father, yourself, or me.” She smiled, and Clara noticed a puckered scar under his right eye.   
“What did you do to him?”  
Agent 10 frowned. “That doesn’t matter. He knows what he is here to do and he’ll do it. Neither of us will be harmed.” She ran a hand through the Asset’s hair, and Clara saw an infinitesimal flinch flash through him.  
“He doesn’t like you touching him.”  
Agent 10 blinked, and then pulled her back near the door, leaning down and speaking almost directly into Clara’s face. “Surely you’ve been informed of the Asset’s purpose and meaning to HYDRA?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then you know that it doesn’t matter what he wants or doesn’t want. He is simply a soldier. A subhuman. He is not to be treated with anything resembling normal human contact. It will break down his machinery and cause him to forget what he is here for. If that happens, he undergoes a full wipe. You are not here to treat him like a human, he is not here to give you pleasure, and you will not object to whatever happens in this room. Am I clear?”  
“…Yes.”  
“Good,” Agent 10 purred, and wound a strand of Clara’s blonde hair around her finger. “Let’s make sure we have no more of that nonsense.”   
Clara nodded, realizing when she did so that it caused Agent 10’s grip on her hair to tighten.  
“All right.” Agent 10 backed off. “What do you know about sex?”  
“Um… just the mechanics…” Clara answered, blushing slightly. “My father never gave me the talk; I got old enough and he gave me a book. It had all these diagrams in it-”   
“Good lord. Please tell me you’ve at least kissed a man.”  
“…No? I’m Alexander Pierce’s daughter. That never improved my chances.”  
“Not with men your age, at least,” Agent 10 muttered. “Looks like we’re starting at square one.”  
Clara watched her warily as she went over the watchful Asset, running a familiar palm down his jawline. He didn’t move, but Clara saw the tense way his fingers gripped his thighs and felt a flash of sympathy with him.   
“Come here,” Agent 10 demanded, and Clara went to her as if pulled by a leash. “Watch what I do.”   
She put both her hands in the Asset’s hair, moving her fingers, running them along his scalp, and put her mouth on the Asset’s, kissing him purposefully. He stayed still, opening his mouth only because Agent 10’s persuasive tongue was prodding relentlessly at his mouth. She continued kissing the Asset, but took one hand out of his hair and snatched Clara’s wrist, yanking her closer so that she could get a better idea of what Agent 10 was doing with her tongue. It swirled around the Asset’s mouth, licking him, tasting him, and though he didn’t otherwise move, his eyes closed. Agent 10 took the Asset’s bottom lip in her mouth, sucked it, and bit it. There was a small, agitated sound of machinery as the Asset’s metal hand clenched.  
Agent 10 pulled back. “Copy me.”  
Clara turned pink. “Really? I-”  
“Try. He’s been informed to let me know if you do not accomplish your objective.”  
Clara’s face turned gradually redder, and she brought her face closer to the Asset’s warily. He didn’t move, watching her emotionlessly, but Clara couldn’t help her fear of him. She took a deep, nervous breath, and set her lips on the Asset’s. Agent 10’s hands gripped her head firmly and turned it just a little, allowing Clara better access to his mouth. She moved her mouth, shyly, and he pulled back and shook his head.  
Agent 10 glared. “Try again.”  
Clara did, setting her lips on the Asset’s again, determined to get this done and over with. She copied the movements she had seen Agent 10 make, and gradually, after what seemed like a very long time of practicing, with barely enough time to breathe, Clara finally felt the Asset’s mouth move on hers. Abruptly, his tongue, which had been lying listlessly in his mouth, sometimes following hers in a bored way if she tried to engage it, found hers, and flicked it. She startled a little, and didn’t quite realize that her fingers were gripping his hair a little tighter.  
Agent 10 yanked her back, and at the Asset’s nod, she sighed in relief. “Good. Stand up, Soldat.”   
He did, and Clara felt her face flame all over again. He was tall and muscled, and she could see a light sheen of sweat on his brow and collarbone. Briefly, she felt an inkling of desire to lick it off, but decided to keep that to herself. He was gorgeous, and Clara’s glance was drawn involuntarily to his genitals; she had seen pictures before, but there was something awe-inspiring about the real thing. His testes and penis hung heavy between his legs, sensual and obscene, and Clara’s lips parted.  
She didn’t see Agent 10 leer behind her, but she did see the Asset’s penis twitch just slightly, responding to her eyes on it, and she turned away abruptly, a horrible, nauseous feeling arising in her stomach.   
“Go ahead, look,” Agent 10 encouraged. “You might as well get used to it.”  
Clara backed a step, but Agent 10 stopped her, fingers digging forcefully into her shoulder. “Don’t you want to touch him, honey?” she teased lightly.   
“I-”  
“Touch him. I know you want to.” She smirked at the Asset. “Don’t you want her to touch you, Soldat?”  
His eyes flicked to Agent 10 and then to Clara. “Not a mission objective.”  
“Aren’t you a good boy!” she giggled, cajoling him with a palm to his jawline again. “You’re being so good… if you keep being a good boy, maybe we’ll let you finish.”  
If it hadn’t been so deafeningly quiet in that room, Clara might not have heard the soft sigh of yearning that came from deep in the Asset’s chest.   
“Touch him, Clara.”  
“Touch him where?” It was nearly a squawk, and the Asset jerked, startled.  
“Anywhere,” Agent 10 hissed through gritted teeth. “I would like to get out of here sometime before next week.”  
Clara reached out before her brain could start protesting again and laid a hand on the right side of his chest, the center of her palm directly over his nipple. His skin broke out in goosebumps, ultra-sensitive because of the wax someone had given him. She looked to Agent 10, who nodded in approval, and raised her other hand, brushing her thumb across his collarbone. He watched her interestedly, and at Agent 10’s silent prodding, leaned forward and dragged her tongue across his nipple.  
Really, this is going to—oh.  
The Asset had let out another yearning sigh, this one tinged with the edge of a deep moan.   
“Suck.”   
Clara paused.  
“Seriously. Do it.”  
Blushing a little, Clara fitted her mouth around the Asset’s nipple, bringing her body closer to his to get a better stance, and used her tongue on it, the same way she had in his mouth. She kept her other hand on his nipple, and after a few awkward seconds, managed to work up enough coordination to move her thumb across the other nipple in the way he liked at the same time.   
The Asset hissed briefly through his teeth, and abruptly, pushed her away. “Mission objective completed.”  
Clara staggered slightly, noticing for the first time that her own nipples were hard through her clothing.  
It’s not even cold in here.  
She looked down at his genitals again, and saw to her surprise, that his penis had swelled slightly, beginning to rise. She had read of that happening, but the idea of him getting any bigger made her nervous for some odd reason, and she bit her lip, gnawing with her brow furrowed thoughtfully. The Asset kept his eyes on her, his breathing a little faster.  
“Lay down, Soldat.”   
He complied at once.   
Agent 10 grabbed Clara’s wrist and forced her hand up, putting it gently on the Asset’s skin just above his genitals. “Touch. Get used to it.”  
Her face gradually reaching a level that Clara thought must be somewhere between maroon and deep purple, Clara did, turning her hand over and cupping him, feeling the swell of his penis and the heaviness of his testes. She wasn’t trying to give him pleasure, but she heard his breath hitch, and then Agent 10’s hand was on hers. She pulled out a tube of something—lubrication, Clara thought—and poured some into Clara’s hands, making her rub it all over like lotion. From there, she put Clara’s hand back on the Asset and began to guide it lightly, sweeping back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. The Asset let out a small sound and his hips jerked; he thrust himself into Clara’s hand.  
She jumped when she felt more liquid slide into her palm, and looked askance at the bottle of lube; she’d surely rubbed it all in already—oh, that was the fluid that came from him before he finished, hadn’t she read about that in her book—?  
Agent 10 took a hold of her thumb and moved it across the tip of the Asset’s penis. His jaw clenched. She did it again, and Clara watched as he held in another thrust. Agent 10 took a hold of her other hand, poured lube on it, and eased it down to cup the Asset’s testes, rolling them in her palm. They couldn’t fit; her hands were too small, but he still let out a noise, quickly cut off. His hips jerked, once, twice—  
Clara’s hands were pulled back so firmly that Agent 10 left small scratches on her wrists. A shudder wracked the Asset’s body. “Mission objective completed,” he rasped hoarsely, and shifted as though he wanted to turn over before thinking better of it.  
“Stand up.”  
He did, with some effort; there was a small, metallic scraping as his left hand gripped the table a little harder than he meant it to. Agent 10 grabbed the bottle of lubrication again and poured a good dollop of it over her hands and then put more on Clara’s, soaking her up to well past her wrist. “I’m not sure how this is going to go,” she muttered, and Clara wondered if she had actually meant that to be heard, “but better not to cause any damage.  
“All right. Listen to me very carefully,” she began, eyeing Clara and deliberately not blinking. “You’re going to take him in your mouth, and both your hands are going to be busy. So if something is wrong and you need to stop, I want you to blink at me. Once, slowly, then twice, fast. Am I clear?”  
“Yes.”  
“Good.” She led Clara around behind the Asset, and though he didn’t even so much as flinch, Clara could feel him longing to look around at them as though the desire were her own, and quickly, she reached out and stroked his wrist, soothingly, before Agent 10 could say anything. She was looking at the Asset’s behind now, and it was… well, beautiful. When his muscles flexed, perhaps with nervousness, she saw the dimples clearly outlined in his skin, and fought the urge to smile. Agent 10 did, though, and pressed one with a thumb before reaching out and squeezing.   
She still had the bottle of lubrication in her hand. “You were cleaned, Soldat, yes?”  
“Affirmative.”  
“Good.” She coated the Asset’s behind in the lube. Clara’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re going to reach in and find his prostate.”  
“Ew!” Clara blurted before she could stop herself, and they both heard the subterranean rumble from the Asset’s chest.  
He was laughing at her.  
“Why in hell-”  
“This gives men pleasure. It makes their orgasms better.” Agent 10 smirked. “Bet they didn’t cover that in your books, did they?”


	3. Part 3

“You really want me to-”  
“Yes.”  
“But what if I hurt him?”  
“He’ll heal in about two seconds, and besides, that’s what I’m here for. I’ll teach you so you don’t hurt him. Or at least, after the first time, you’ll get the hang of it. Now, fold your fingers, just like me, that’s it…”  
Clara listened carefully to Agent 10’s instructions, following her every word, even getting over her squeamishness in her determination not to hurt the Asset, who, despite Agent 10’s insistence, she could not see as anything but a human in a horrible situation.  
She bit down on her lip, nearly drawing blood, and managed to get her fingers inside as Agent 10 talked her through it, trying not to hear the squicky sound of her digits moving inside his ass. His muscles were flexing, almost irritably and—  
“Up a little—there-”  
The Asset’s shoulders hunched, and he made a sound between a gag and a moan, thrusting himself back on her fingers before a small, almost childlike sound of pain slid out of his mouth. “Mission objective failed,” he informed them, and Clara heard the edge in his voice; she had been listening for it. With Agent 10’s guidance, she eased her fingers out of him, and saw a trace of blood on her fingertips before she washed them off. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled miserably, not caring if Agent 10 bitched at her for apologizing to the Fist of HYDRA. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to.”  
“Mission objective failed.”  
“Your fingers were probably too tense. Maybe not enough lube,” Agent 10 told Clara. “Don’t be so nervous, that’s not going to help you. I know it’s not the most sanitary thing in the world, but you can always wash your hands afterward.” She led Clara to the sink and made her do just that. “And he’s not that hurt, he’s been through worse.”  
Clara hung her head.  
“Let’s try again.” She re-coated her Clara’s hands and the Asset’s behind, and then slowly coached Clara through it again.  
“Mission… objective complete.” Clara actually felt the shudder roll through his body.  
“Good.” She led the Asset to the metal table, pressed a button and lowered it, and directed him to lie down on it. From there, she cuffed his hands and legs, spreading him out for Clara’s use. “Come up here, Clara. You remember what I told you to do, right? Blink once, then twice if you need help.”  
She moved to stand in between the Asset’s legs. With prompting and prodding from Agent 10, Clara began to use one hand on him again, while the other went back inside the Asset, and Agent 10 set her to milking him in earnest. The Asset made it easy for her, lifting his hips off the table, eyes closed, thrusting into her hand.  
“Lick him. Once. Start at the tip and go up.”  
“Wha-”  
“Now.”  
Clara did. The Asset rolled his hips and made a low, mournful sound.   
“Put your mouth around him. Easy. Don’t touch him with your teeth- or do, that’s great.” Clara didn’t need to turn around to know that Agent 10 was rolling her eyes. “Easy. Easy. Now suck.” Her fingers dug into Clara’s scalp and moved her head in just the way her hand had moved. “Watch your teeth-”  
Clara felt liquid slide down her throat and gagged. She blinked once, then twice, fast, still gagging, and the Asset saw it and cupped her jaw, almost lovingly, in his hand, causing her to drop it. Agent 10 pulled her hair and moved her head backward.   
“Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.” Clara watched the Asset’s eyes.  
“Mission objective failed,” he intoned, but she caught a softness in it that hadn’t been there before.  
“Controlling your breathing will help you when you have to swallow,” Agent 10 snapped. “Do it again.”  
Clara nodded, and bent back down. Agent 10 gripped her head again, moving it and getting her into a rhythm, telling her to breathe from her diaphragm, getting closer now, take a big breath—  
The Asset thrust into her mouth, and oddly enough, Clara’s startled cry, lower-pitched than she had anticipated vibrated her vocal chords and opened her throat up. He thrust again, and again—  
“Drop your jaw, watch your teeth!” Agent 10 commanded, and Clara immediately made sure her lips were folded over her teeth and dropped her jaw the smallest bit to allow herself more room as she pulled back.  
The groan that ripped up from the Asset was nothing short of profane.

After two solid weeks of this practice, Clara had grown more comfortable with all of the acts that she had been made to perform. Agent 10 had coached her, mostly patiently, through all of them, and after the last time, when she caused the Asset to orgasm while one of her hands was inside him with her fingers stroking his prostate, the other was on his testes, and her mouth was on his penis, Agent 10 had pronounced her ready to have a session by herself.  
“…Alone? Surely that’s not allowed… I’m engaged.”  
“The Asset doesn’t count!” Agent 10 trilled, chuckling. “It’s perfectly all right. Besides, your father has given permission and you’re going to have to have the confidence to do this without me there. I don’t want to be in your bedroom when you fuck your future husband.”  
Clara flinched.  
“You’ll be fine. It’s going to happen in two days, at about eight at night. That way, it’ll be after dinner and everyone in the complex will either be out or too lazy to come down here to this part of the complex and work. You’ll be great. Won’t she, my pet?” Agent 10 slid a finger down the center of the Asset’s chest. He watched it, detached, and then gave Clara a nearly emotionless look.  
She hoped to God that she was the only one that saw the traces of the smirk on his face.  
Two days later, Clara headed down to the vault at exactly 7:50 in the evening. She’d been given the key code to access the vault, and all cameras in the corridor and at the door had been turned off. Being Alexander Pierce’s daughter had its perks.  
When she reached the closed doors, however, she paused. There were sounds coming from inside, and Clara was reasonably sure that the Asset hadn’t been given orders to get any sort of mission briefing.  
And yet he wasn’t alone.  
Panicking for herself and for the man inside, Clara punched the key code; she had to try three times to get it right.  
The doors opened and presented her with a view of the Asset, once again completely naked, on the floor of the room, legs spread wide. In fact, all she could see were his legs and his arms, because Agent 10’s naked, undulating body was sitting astride him, her back turned to him. Her mouth was open and she was groaning, one hand on the Asset’s thigh, nails drawing blood, and the other was touching herself, fingers circling her own clit, matching the rhythm of their thrusting bodies. His hands were busy, too; one was moving back and forth between her breasts, and one was on her neck, lightly choking her.   
Agent 10’s eyes opened, and she took her hand from the Asset’s thigh, deliberately digging her nails in one last time, to remove his hand from her neck. “Hello, Miss Pierce,” she cooed. “Do you like what you see? We can give it to you.” Her rhythmic thrusts hadn’t slowed, and Clara saw her shiver deliciously. “Almost there… that’s it, pet… come here, Miss Pierce, I can take your cunt and he’ll take your ass and we’ll have you screaming… screaming so loud…” She bit her lip, dipped her head, and finished with an obscene cry. When she had come down, she slapped the Asset’s thigh, crisply, and he stopped thrusting immediately, despite the fact that he hadn’t gotten to finish.   
“You’re… you’re not supposed to be here…” She was barely breathing, so it was the Asset’s pants that were flooding her ears. “I’m supposed to be alone…”  
“I know, but surely, we can have some fun first?” She unfolded herself from the Asset in one smooth motion, and made her way over to a frozen Clara, pinning her easy prey to the now-closed vault door. One arm slid around her; she brought her close and began to grind, rolling her hips. Clara’s lips parted, and Agent 10 took the opportunity where it was given to slide her tongue in Clara’s mouth. She was half-walked, half-carried over to wear the Asset was standing, and Agent 10 guided the Asset behind her. He pinned her, grinding softly against her ass, and Clara moaned before she could stop herself, leaning back into it. Agent 10 took her mouth again, and began steadily palming her.  
A vision of her father’s livid face filled Clara’s head. She froze. They all felt it.  
“Let us make you come…” The words were whispered into Clara’s neck by a desperate Agent 10, and her palming sped up. For one terrifying second, Clara almost considered it.   
“…This is supposed to be for my fiancé, and this isn’t part of the mission,” Clara said in her best “I am the daughter of Alexander Pierce and you’d better remember it” voice. The Asset peeled away from her instantly, and Clara shuddered, missing his warmth.  
It took Agent 10 longer, but she did, too, her jaw whitening around the edges. “I apologize,” she said, in a voice of steel. “Please forgive me for my inappropriate behavior.”  
Clara felt an insane urge to laugh, but by some miracle, kept it off her face. “Get out.”  
Agent 10 snapped her fingers briskly and the Asset followed. Clara heard a shower turn on in another room and used the few minutes they took to get herself completely back together.   
Agent 10 came out dressed, and shoved the Asset back in the center of the room. “If you won’t take it from me, take it from him,” she spat, “because from now on, it’s all you’ll ever get.”   
Clara didn’t dare watch her leave.  
“…Ready to commence mission,” the Asset intoned after a moment, startling her.   
She coughed, turning pink. “Um… we… don’t have to do this.”  
“Final objective is to check all that you learned,” he responded, his eyes flat.  
She nodded, turning pink, and for the barest of seconds, everything she had been taught in the last few weeks flew right out of her brain. Clara stood staring at the Asset in a sort of entranced horror, and didn’t realize that she was shivering until he put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her. His tongue danced, almost playfully, along her mouth, and she quickly took control of the situation, prodding his mouth open gently and sliding her tongue across his. His hands cupped her jaw, and he deepened the kiss and moaned in her mouth.  
“Mission objective complete.”   
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t stop, Soldat, please.” She reached up and stroked his brow, felt it furrow confusedly under her fingers. “We can still complete the mission. Just please… please don’t stop kissing me.”  
He brought her mouth to his again, and Clara yielded gladly. Somewhere inside her, the clinical part of her brain was talking to the rest of her, grading the rest of her, accusing the rest of her and telling her she was just as bad as Agent 10 had been.  
And yet, Clara knew there was no other way to apologize for what she had done.  
Her hands moved to his chest, and his hands moved to hers, and far off in the distance, she heard the rip of fabric, and her dress was coming off and God damn it, in her desperation to make him feel good, she was raping him and he was enjoying it; he was moaning and stroking her back and her shoulders and her hair and weighing her breasts in his hands, and now he was stroking her nipples with his persistent thumbs until they were red and hard and needy… She was sucking first one nipple, then the other, grazing her teeth against him as she had been taught, and one of his hands was in her hair, pulling and massaging… Clara slid her hand down to his penis and licked her hand, stroked, stroked again; liquid spilled onto him and onto her fingers—he’d found the lubrication—and she stroked him faster, listening to him pant and groan.  
The heel of his palm was on her now, where Agent 10’s had been, and he was kneading her in slow circles and she was rolling her hips along with it, meeting him; there was a hot, ugly ache in her, deep down, setting her on fire, stabbing at her hips and her thighs. He refused to go faster, ignoring her mewling, and something was happening, her hips were jerking, she was gasping, she was coming, pulsing deeply, steadily… He was watching her with a smirk on his face.  
His erection was monstrous, almost accusing; she pushed him onto the table, leaned down, took him in her mouth, began to suck earnestly, apologizing for what she had done, what she was doing, what she would do with every movement. He was moaning—he’d forgotten to monitor the mission, she was swallowing the fluid that slid eagerly down her throat—he thrust, she took it, he did it again, and she swallowed his cum as easily as if she had been doing it for years.   
He moved like a striking predator, picked her up, put her on the table, laid her down, and licked up her opening. Clara gasped and lifted her head off the table; he reached out and prevented her from looking… That hand moved to her wrists now, locking them together, leaving bruises, throwing her arms up over her head, and his mouth was on her, he was outright sucking her, and the buildup wasn’t slow this time, and she screamed with the harshness of it; three of his fingers were in her, one right after the other—there would be blood, but she needed it—let me come, please let me—  
He slid inside her just before she came, and Clara’s moan of frustration became one of need. It hurt, Jesus Christ, it hurts, why does it have to hurt so much, maybe I deserve it—he was thrusting, growling like an animal, how appropriate, her muscles were clenching relentlessly around him… her legs were up in the air now, he was pushing deeper, thrusting harder and faster, teeth bared above her; was he calling her “doll”—?  
“What is the meaning of this?”


	4. Part 4

*2017

Maybe I deserve this.  
“Oopsy!” The attendant giggled maliciously and purposely dribbled more hot soup down Clara’s nightgown, and it burned her chest; a line of it ran down her side, directly into the bedsore on her left side. She couldn’t shift to move the pressure off, and it wasn’t the only one that had popped up. Sometimes, the attendant would deliberately poke at it when he did turn her.   
“Looks like you need a little clean up!”  
I know I deserve this.  
Clara felt the drool running down the side of her mouth—again—and felt dread pool in her stomach. Judging by the fact that she couldn’t hear the attendant preparing the shower, it was going to be boiling hot water applied directly to the spot where he had spilled the soup.   
At 57, she had suffered a stroke, and her three children had abandoned her while she was in the hospital, recovering as much as she was able. After it was determined that she would never walk again, much less get out of a bed without assistance, she had been sent to the nursing home for long-term care. She was speechless, frozen, helpless, and she knew without a doubt that she deserved it.  
The nursing home was highly acclaimed, known for its cleanliness and efficiency, and apparently, the food was even good, although Clara had not had an occasion to taste a lot of it. Three weeks after she arrived, a new attendant had taken over the majority of her care… and he despised her.   
“Here we are!”  
The water wasn’t boiling hot. It was freezing, and he made sure to drag the washcloth around her entire chest.   
Alexander Pierce’s reaction to finding his daughter fucking the Asset had been legendary. The Asset had been beaten to within an inch of his life, wiped repeatedly, and left abandoned in a cell for years to rot in his own blood and shit before Pierce had dragged him back out in 1991. Clara had been quickly handed off to Michael Rumlow, married in private, with only her father watching it happen. Michael Rumlow had turned out to be physically and mentally abusive, and his idea of sex was to pry her open, fuck her until he came, and leave her on the bed covered in his filth. She’d had three children, all of whom, despite her best efforts to do otherwise, had grown up to be despicable, exemplary HYDRA agents. After Michael died, she had defected and gone into hiding.   
Nightmares of what had happened between her, Agent 10, and the Asset haunted her still. Sometimes she would wake up screaming, remembering his gray eyes, so full of depth and hopelessness despite his lack of emotion, and would stifle herself before someone could hear. Sometimes Agent 10’s voice would fill her ears, barking her old instructions, and Clara’s eyes would open, her heart pounding, as she remembered how she had raped a man.  
The attendant was the final nail in a coffin that she had built for herself.   
“Pay attention, you stupid bitch,” he snapped, bringing her out of her reverie. Her eyes slid back to his, and she reached fruitlessly for her computer, which he had scooted leisurely out of the way. “It’s bath time now.”

“Steve, I really don’t think this is a good idea.”  
“Yes, it is. No one is going to panic; it’s a nursing home and it’s Veteran’s Day. We’re here to serve lunch, not reveal your past.”  
“Very fuckin’ funny.”  
Steve gave him an indulgent look, pushing the creaky cart full of heavy plates and silverware along the hallway.   
“We should take some a’ that,” Bucky muttered, eyeing the chicken, green beans, mashed potatoes, and banana bread as his stomach growled. “We’re vets, too.”  
Now Steve rolled his eyes. “Our next room is 308.”  
They took a right. Then a left. Then another right. Then a left. They found 316 and retraced their steps.  
“What… the hell.”  
Bucky didn’t get a chance to reprimand Steve for his hypocritical use of language, because he saw what Steve was looking at. A nursing home attendant was bending over an old person, lying prostrate in bed, facedown, and apparently, his excuse for washing her off was to pour what was obviously cold water all over her and scrub her vigorously—so much so that she was whimpering in her pillow. Steve bumped into the cart, spilling the plates, as he barged inside, kicking the door the rest of the way open and slamming the attendant into the wall so hard that he dented it. Bucky went straight to the bed and looked over the naked and sobbing lady. Her left side was frozen, her right hand clenching her pillow uselessly. Sickened at the sight of her raw skin and bed sores, he eased her over.  
Everything in him stopped.   
She let out a keening wail, and he and Steve both jumped. “Stevie, take that bastard downstairs,” Bucky commanded, and for once, Steve didn’t question, but did as he had been ordered.   
Clara squirmed in the Asset’s arms, tears running down her face, meeting with the panicked drool sliding down her chin. Her more practical side knew she should be horribly embarrassed at the fact that the Asset was seeing her this way, but the rest of her didn’t care. He’d found her, he had the opportunity, now he was going to hurt her…  
Very gently, he put her down in her chair, took his own coat off, and wrapped it around her, then grabbed a tissue and sweetly wiped her chin.   
“What happened to you?” He wheeled her computer over within reach of her right hand and watched her poke the buttons.  
“STROKE.”  
“Jesus,” he muttered. “Jesus, sweetheart, why didn’t you tell anyone what he was doing this to you? How long has this been going on?”  
“DESERVE. IT.”  
The Asset paused, and she watched his eyes slowly harden above hers, reminding her of the last time she had seen him.  
“Buck?”  
“Get out.”  
“But-” Steve was blathering about the unconscious attendant in a heap on the floor; he’d brought others with him, and Bucky didn’t care.  
“OUT!”  
Steve froze, backing away.   
“You don’t deserve it,” Bucky whispered hoarsely. “No one deserves this.”  
Clara reached for her computer, looked at the door, and pulled back, looking at Bucky instead. A few leftover tears slid down her cheeks, and she tried to put in them everything she couldn’t say. Yes, I deserve it, I deserve all of it, I was his daughter and I never fought him, I never fought for myself, or for you. I raped you, I hurt you, I used you, and you didn’t have a choice. I let Agent 10 manipulate me and use me, and I let her hurt you and I stood by and watched as he beat you and wiped you; I saw every bit of it and I never even said, “Stop-”  
“Stop.” He wiped her hair off her brow. “Stop destroying yourself. You never asked for any of it. You were forced, and you know it. We were both victims. We were all victims.”  
“Sir?” Someone who looked like the director of the nursing home was half in and half out of the room, fidgeting anxiously. “We need to talk to you and Captain Rogers regarding-”  
Bucky clenched his teeth. “Is this a normal thing with you people? Allowing abusive idiots near your residents?”  
“No, sir, we-”  
“You have no right to talk!” He was standing up, looming over them all now, and Steve’s eyes were widening. “She was naked, she was suffocating in her goddamn pillow, she was helpless, and you idiots didn’t do shit!”  
“She didn’t say anything-”  
Bucky crossed the room in two steps and hauled up the director by the scruff of the neck. He let out a terrified squeak. “You think she could? He was probably threatening to kill her! He kept her from using her machine as much as he could! Tell me, you pompous asshole, how often did it break down?”  
The director went from red to white. Bucky dropped him.  
Steve stepped into the room and yanked up the groaning attendant, shoving him ruthlessly out the door. The director staggered back up to his feet, trying and failing to retain his dignity. Bucky looked back at Clara, his chest heaving. She sat hunched over in her chair, clutching his jacket to herself, and her eyes flitted nervously back and forth between Bucky, Steve, and the director, silently begging. He crossed the room, going to her and squatting at her side. “It’s going to be all right.”  
“I. TRUST. YOU.”  
He couldn’t tell through the computer if she was being sarcastic or not, but before he could think better of it, he kissed her forehead and offered her a lopsided smile, and Clara thought that it looked very at home on his face.


End file.
